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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23029030">Is this what you wanted?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greykite/pseuds/Greykite'>Greykite</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(aka Erebus and young Argel Tal in the past), Anal Sex, Angst, Argel Tal reflects to much, Conversations, Dubious Consent, Duelling, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Missing Scene, Present Tense, brotherly duel went wrong, het pairing is all in thoughts and UST, in the middle of the fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:08:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23029030</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greykite/pseuds/Greykite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You wanted this, Argel Tal? Ties? Closeness?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>(mentioned) - Relationship, Aquilon/Argel Tal, Argel Tal/Cyrene Valantion, Erebus (WH40k)/Argel Tal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Is this what you wanted?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You have never visited Cyrene for all this time, have you?” Argel Tal asked Aquilon as they both were sitting on a bench in the training room; each had a towel over their shoulders, but if Argel Tal wiped his neck and shoulders from sweat after the sparring, the towel of the Custodian was apparently clean.</p><p>“You know that I have not. Why ask then?" the Custodian shrugged barely noticeably.</p><p>“I think you should visit her at least once.”</p><p>“I don't see the point in her.”</p><p>“Is it supposed to be that way about the citizens of the Imperium?” Argel Tal tried to pry him.</p><p>“I see no reason in what she is doing,” Aquilon apparently easily corrected himself, not giving in to provocation. He moved his shoulders; flexed his wrists again. “And I don't consider it healthy to involve a mortal in the affairs of the Legions. The place and role of mortals is completely another matter."</p><p>Argel Tal held the Custodian’s gaze without turning away. He did not even changed his expression.</p><p>“Cyrene’s place is with her Legion. And I wouldn’t like to hear someone questioning this. Be he even my friend."</p><p>“You care too much about this woman.”</p><p>"I simply state a fact. Besides, this is the will of my primarch, and it is not for me to challenge it."</p><p>Aquilon threw the towel on the bench - this was perhaps the utmost sign of irritation that the Custodian allowed himself in the presence of the Word Bearer.</p><p>“I am supposed to watch that your Legion, as well as the primarch himself, abandon the unhealthy traditions that sway from the Imperial Truth. Not to indulge them."</p><p>"And what do you find here to be unhealthy?"</p><p>Someone else, even a Space Marine, not mortal, would have waved his hand in the air or made some other gesture. But not Aquilon.</p><p>He only raised his eyebrows.</p><p>“This... occupation of hers. The name of it. Confessor."</p><p>“Just a word,” Argel Tal assured him. “It is not necessary to serve any god to give consolation. And we use the word “crusade”, right? Much of what we do is rooted in the past full of delusions. But traditions themselves are worth preserving. What does this change for some of our cousins if the knighting in the Age of Iron on Terra took place in the name of the divine Triad?”</p><p>“Xaphen,” Aquilon grimaced, barely noticeable.</p><p>“He knows more about the history of mankind than I am,” agreed Argel Tal, deliberately avoiding to focus on disgust in the Custodian’s voice.</p><p>Xaphen, after all, also did not like Aquilon.</p><p>But it was not the Chaplain's duty to maintain this relations.</p><p>“And yet it will be good for you to speak with her.”</p><p>“No,” said Aquilon calmly.</p><p>And right after that, he rose to his feet with swift, flexible grace and took a long sword from the weapon rack.</p><p>"Do you want to lose again?" He turned to the Word Bearer.</p><p>“Until I'm not on the battlefield,” answered Argel Tal, “every loss is a lesson that can save me from death in the future.” And he too rose to his feet.</p><p>He had already recovered quite well, although some of the apothecaries believed: after the expedition to the warp rift, it will take several years for the survivors, no matter how marked and allocated they were by the primarch, to fully return to warrior's duty.</p><p>Now he regularly managed to hold out against Aquilon for about five minutes. On the average.</p><p>He had a good knowledge of the Custodian.</p><p>Aquilon himself probably even liked that Argel Tal did not mind losing - over and over again.</p><p>Having already taken a fighting stance with paired blades (a miserable semblance of weapons memorable and lost), Argel Tal made another attempt to convince Aquilon - by looking for vulnerabilities in the arguments of the Custodian, just like he looked in the pattern of movements during the battle.</p><p>Not to say that the former was much simpler than the latter.</p><p>And yet.</p><p>“You and your warriors will spend another forty-five years with us. The bonds of brotherhood are also the bonds of customs." He said that without looking away; although he knew that he was at risk — if he does not notice, in time, the movements of the muscles ready for the attack.</p><p>It was impossible to him to tell the truth.</p><p>"I wonder what she would say about you, brother."</p><p>A confessor does not talk about what he or she heard from others, of course; that would be against custom. However, something would leak inevitably - some fleeting observation, some remark, a single word. For some reason, he liked to collect Cyrene’s reservations - to keep them in mind, as another collection of trophies.</p><p>In the case of Aquilon... in spite of the strange arrangement between them, the Custodian remained impenetrable not only for training blades.</p><p>Argel Tal wanted to change that.</p><p>It must be in order to have to himself - in times after inevitability comes - something left to remember.</p><p>Aquilon struck with the speed of lightning - Argel Tal barely had time, at the very limit of the reaction, to block it, taking on crossed blades. His wrists splashed with pain, but the strengthened bones and muscles withstood.</p><p>“We are despised and hated among your Legion-brothers. Even these years later."</p><p>They exchanged a few more quick, hard blows - not one of which, however, hit the bare skin. And then they started to circle around each other.</p><p>“My Chapter welcomes the help of your weapons during the Compliances. I set an example for my warriors, and I will continue to set it."</p><p>Now Argel Tal attacked and Aquilon took a defensive position: however, deliberate calm served to the Custodian only as a cover for silent calculation, which was to be followed by a single and sure blow.</p><p>Argel Tal knew this well enough.</p><p>He made a deceptive lunge and immediately, with all the speed that his improved physiology allowed, launched a real attack. With a sword in his left hand he aimed at the throat of a Custodian; with the sword on the right hand he defended himself from the inevitable counterattack.</p><p>“And if you - and your warriors - agree to meet with the Confessor one day...”</p><p>"Not a chance".</p><p>It seemed that this time Aquilon finally was taken by surprise. But only for a moment.</p><p>Almost imperceptibly even to the eyes of the Astartes, Aquilon turned around, and the blade passed almost end-to-end to the skin, but met only empty air. Then the Custodian swiftly grabbed the opponent’s sword by the hilt, yanking it even harder.</p><p>And finally, with a kick, he sent Argel Tal - already out of balance - to the floor.</p><p>"...then the memories of how it all began will go deeper into the past." Argel Tal finished, lifting himself up on his shoulder blades, imitating by voice the unperturbed manner of the Custodian.</p><p>Aquilon pressed his lips together and yet offered his hand to Argel Tal, as was their custom.</p><p>Argel Tal, without thinking twice, grabbed the confident fingers of the Custodian.</p><p>He helped the Word Bearer to his feet; for a moment they stood so, face to face, opposite each other, as if sworn brothers cordially greeting each other on the battlefield.</p><p>Finally, Argel Tal stepped back.</p><p>“Healing wounds requires not only time, but also some effort,” he said, stubbornly continuing where he left off. “And no ties arise in one day. When I saw you for the first time, most of all I wanted to poke you face in burning coals. As soon as you take off that helmet of yours."</p><p>Aquilon grunted, twirling the weapon in his hand - almost carelessly, despite the weight.</p><p>“I, seeing your Legion-brothers for the first time, wanted to wake up from a bad dream. But bad in these words turned into bearable, at least. But... what do you want from me now?</p><p>Argel Tal again met his gaze - deep, probing gaze - calmly and directly.</p><p>(Although something inside him - more and more manifesting itself in the course of their sparring - would like to grin at the face of the Custodian and expose fangs: dare it).</p><p>“I want no distrust between us. And I want a step towards - as evidence of this.” he said, drowning out this inner voice.</p><p>Aquilon shook his head.</p><p>“You're lucky to talk to me. Nirall would just send you to the floor, to spit your teeth in a pool of blood, if you insisted with the same persistence in his presence."</p><p>“It seems you're blessed with endless patience,” Argel Tal grinned.</p><p>"Not so endless". Something flashed in the dark eyes of the Custodian. - "Once again?"</p><p>“Once again,” agreed Argel Tal, habitually lifting training blades from the floor.</p><p>This time, his movements were slower, but he more closely watched the movements of Aquilon, in which, in addition to the usual unshakable confidence, now appeared a strange dark weight.</p><p>They exchanged blows - and taunts balancing on the verge of insults - with bitterness that hiding in itself something fiercely sharp, like a lightning cloud may conceal a thunderstorm.</p><p>“And yet... Why?” Argel Tal demandingly said, pressing on Aquilon with a series of continuous, not weakening attacks. “Why does the duty of the Confessor repel you, brother?”</p><p>Aquilon seized the moment and threw off the Word Bearer’s hands, this time really nearly breaking his wrist.</p><p>"The need for such thing is an evidence of weakness."</p><p>“Evidence of self-awareness,” retorted Argel Tal verbally, reflecting, at the same time, a very real blow coming into his face.</p><p>There was not even a scratch on the hand with the elbow of which he had been shielding himself just a second ago, although the blade of the Custodian, which Argel Tal was now struggling to capture with his twin swords, was a hair's breadth from his skin.</p><p>Aquilon was deadly - and deadly neat.</p><p>“To set a limit for yourself without trying is akin to surrendering without a fight,” snapped Aquilon, freeing the sword from the capture of the Word Bearer's blades by one swift, powerful movement.</p><p>“The someone who refuses to bear his burden is the one who surrenders. Not someone who is aware of his measure."</p><p>The Argel Tal's muscles were aching, but the frenzied, obscure anger that was growing under his skin - although in the presence of Aquilon and his warriors he always sought to remain calm - created a counterweight to fatigue.</p><p>He swung to the left, leaning a little and thereby moving away from the next blow.</p><p>“Are you trying to distract me with words? It will not work." Aquilon's lips parted in a not quite grin, not quite a smile.</p><p>Now Argel Tal has taken on the role of an attacker. His blows lost almost any semblance of grace or skill. There was only one striving left in him: to break through the steel wall of the Custodian's defenses, no matter what the cost. Heat was pouring under his skin; the hilts of the swords slid in sweaty palms, but Argel Tal ignored it. Completely. </p><p>“I'm trying to be honest. And you…"</p><p>"What am I doing?“ Argel Tal definitely did not like how the voice of the Custodian sounds. But he just could not stop. Not now.</p><p>It is impossible to interrupt a duel in the middle without causing damage to a warrior's honor.</p><p>Aquilon was not giving up to him - which was only to be expected; he withstood the onslaught unshakably, not allowing himself to retreat even a half step - but Argel Tal could not push aside.</p><p>He realized: they were fighting much longer than usual.</p><p>Aquilon knocked out of hand one of his swords - Argel Tal, against all rules, intercepted the second by both hands and rushed forward. The blades clashed in the clank and flash of sparks; Argel Tal gritted his teeth until gum pain. Aquilon looked at him with exactly the same expression that was full of frenzied tension; his jaw was clenched as if in a mirror image.</p><p>He made the last spurt - but luck, or rush, or a fit of madness, whatever it was, come to an end. Aquilon turned his sword only a little - and the remaining twin blade slipped out of the Argel Tal’s fingers, and now he was standing motionless.</p><p>“You should have decide. You reject - and in doing so, do you not put a limit to yourself?" Argel Tal said that, panting.</p><p>In response, something close to rage suddenly flashed in Aquilon's usually calm eyes.</p><p>“And - what - I - am - rejecting?” Each word was pulled out in a separate abrupt exhalation through the clenched teeth of the Custodian.</p><p>“The other ties and bonds, except those once appointed.” Argel Tal insisted, sensing something flowing under his skin;  something more obscure and spicy than adrenaline.</p><p>He still managed to hear how was ringing the sword thrown by Aquilon; sound was sharply resonating in the breaking silence.</p><p>He managed to feel a shadow by his back - something massive, menacing.</p><p>And nothing more.</p><p>***<br/>
...Aquilon moves rapidly, abruptly, as if in a duel - no, as in a real combat; he wraps Argel Tal's hand behind his back with such force that even the strengthened joints crunch, and lifts him, pulling onto himself. Sweat-sticky hair on the back of Argel Tal's head stir with the hot, angry breath of the Custodian - although even in such situation that breath remains even, more even than Astartes'.</p><p>“So you wanted this?” - Argel Tal hears: a tone lower than usual, on the verge of a lion's roar.</p><p>Aquilon does not give him a chance to answer - he takes two steps and throws Argel Tal on the stomach on the bench, not letting, however, from his steel grip. Argel Tal's other hand all this time was pressed to his thigh by palm of the Custodian. Now Argel Tal is forced to lean on the floor to maintain his balance.</p><p>“You wanted this — ties? Closeness?”</p><p>From the sound of this voice - almost unfamiliar, despite several years of fighting shoulder to shoulder - Argel Tal bites his lip to blood.</p><p>“And if I say yes?” He manages to say through a lost breath.</p><p>In response, the broad palm of the Custodian closes on his throat: so rapidly that he barely has time to understand why the third lung moved in the chest, and the beat of two hearts intensified.</p><p>And then Argel Tal feels, both sharply and as through the muddy glass: something - a knee, must be, - pushing his hips apart.</p><p>Sounds disappear from the world: besides the noise of blood in the ears. The texture of dark wood with unnatural clarity appears before his eyes: right down to every crack and scratch.</p><p>He takes a convulsive breath - as far as hand on his throat allows it. His teeth grit.</p><p>After all, in fact...</p><p>In fact...</p><p>(“I’m a warrior, not a...” - so he spat out in the face of his mentor, swallowing the word he was about to speak aloud: “whore.” It was supposed by tradition - to leave all the weapons at the threshold just before entering the initiation room, but it was not difficult for him to roll across himself on the floor - in the opposite direction from the ritual dais with a cup and a crozius on it - and, painfully stretching out a hand, grab the handle of a short training sword.)</p><p>His hand is suddenly released from the grip — and goes limp; his fingers accidentally hit the wall. It would take some time, however short, for him to recover his mobility; and he did not have that time.</p><p>Argel Tal feels a tug, and then he hears a loincloth fall to the floor, one piece of it and then the other; the sound is not sharp enough - the fabric seems to be intact.</p><p>Aquilon's hand — the hand of a warrior like Argel Tal himself (and quite different from him in his nature) — grazes the small of his back, parting his buttocks.</p><p>He is torn between conflicting impulses - to run and to fight; he feels his blood boils — and freezes in his veins at the same time. He clenches his teeth even harder, ready to cling to the unyielding wood of the bench. </p><p>Muscles swell, tensing, responding to a surge of hormones.</p><p>He could still push off the bench, use his own weight as a counterweight. There was enough oxygen in his spare lung to keep him out of the grip. Kicking the Custodian, hitting him in the solar plexus - it wouldn't disable him, of course, but it would disorient him.</p><p>And then...</p><p>No. The thought is like an ice dagger driven into the back of his head. He has no right to do so.</p><p>The air drawn in sharply through his teeth, painfully, acutely enters the constricted larynx.</p><p>His task is not to alienate the Custodian. Exactly the opposite. </p><p>For the Legion and Lorgar.</p><p>For the Truth. </p><p>He forces himself to relax his muscles, feeling the Custodian stiff fingers, moistened with something wet - probably just saliva - probing the passage inside.</p><p>Every warrior of the Legions has enough mastery of his own body to, say, make himself almost invisible to primitive detection systems — and he is able to control the secretions of his digestive tract. </p><p>But Argel Tal had never thought he would have to take advantage of it — like this.</p><p>After all that had almost happened in his past. </p><p>(He had been naked, except for a linen loincloth, and in the dimness of the temple chambers, lit only by the lights of ninety-nine candles, his skin glistened with oils. </p><p>He was kneeling in prayer contemplation, mentally reading from the Word, and did not immediately hear the insinuating footsteps of his mentor behind him. </p><p>The high chaplain's hand touched his shoulder and stayed there. And then - past the third prayer for finding the right way - slid down Argel Tal's back.</p><p>Then everything was a blur.)</p><p>The Custodian leans even more heavily on top of him, resting his chin on the scruff of his neck, and the palm between the buttocks is replaced by something else, hot and hard. And Argel Tal even knows, knows too well, what it is.</p><p>...The mentor's palm over his own - guiding, commanding, holding his fingers firmly over other man’s groin, very close, so that the outlines of the male genitals can be traced without any difficulty. The palm’s moving apparently soft, insinuating.</p><p>An incense-smelling breath over his ear. Soft words urging him not to resist.</p><p>"Surrender to the truth, my boy. Don't contradict it."</p><p>Argel Tal senses, without even seeing, as Aquilon moves his hips in full force, not restraining himself.</p><p>The grip on his throat loosens immediately; the stiff fingers of the Custodian clench instead on his thighs, pressing into the skin and muscles with such force that even one of the Astartes will remain bruised; and then Aquilon slightly lifts Argel Tal up - to make the process more convenient.</p><p>Argel Tal has no choice but to adjust: to slide a little on the bench, to shift his own weight. He breathes deeply, slowly. </p><p>Forces himself to breathe like that.</p><p>And then, all of a sudden, he thinks of Cyrene.</p><p>These things were part of the requirements for her occupation. He couldn't understand it in any way, he remembered that. He asked Xaphen as a connoisseur of customs; with her he did not know how to speak about it, and whether to speak at all. </p><p>Xaphen, however, always emphasized other aspects of her former profession — such as maintaining refined conversation, reading poetry and ritual texts, and offering comfort to men. On what it was akin to her place as Confessor - given, of course, the peculiarities of Cyrene's homeworld, and the fact that mortals view their intimate relationship with each other very differently from Legionnaires. </p><p>"It's in the past now," Xaphen added. They both perceived Cyrene as part of the Legion. The sister among the brothers. </p><p>But she continued to invite to her chambers some men from the mortal crew.</p><p>What made her continue to do something like that? The idea of this as part of the sacred duties?</p><p>But she, when Argel Tal found her ushering some mortal officer into her chambers, did not appear to be committing an act of self-denial. Not at all. She didn't look unhappy or<br/>
miserable either.</p><p>Her face seemed to glow a little, and her movements took on an extra, special softness.</p><p>It was as if Cyrene and these male mortals were exchanging gifts with each other, as was prescribed on Colchis on certain holy days.</p><p>Nothing in common, Argel Tal thought, with what had once happened to him. </p><p>With what's happening to him now.</p><p>At first, just after the invasion in his body, he feels nothing; as if after a wound, when the mechanisms of the armor add a cocktail of analgesics to substances already dissolved in the blood of the Astartes. </p><p>In some ways it is really akin to a wound: a foreign object in your own body, a fever in your chest and stomach, weakness in your legs and arms. </p><p>Some soldiers of the Legions were proud of the fact that they had no visible traces of injuries. (Argel Tal was one of such unscarred warriors, though he tried not to be too proud about that.)</p><p>But wounds cannot be avoided completely; and each one leaves a mark anyway.</p><p>(He aimed the point of his blade at Erebus's neck, but Erebus leaped to the altar dais and parried the blow with crozius he timely grasps. </p><p>Argel Tal's blood was pounding in his ears; he did not even realize that he had committed a sin by raising his hand against the chaplain and his mentor. Breathing hard, he continued the pursuit, still feeling the heat and sweat of other man's hands on his skin.</p><p>What a sight it was to see them: as they flew out into the courtyard, scarcely clothed, fighting with weapons out of proportion to each other, under the light of the dimest of the moons of Colchis. The initiate, who has not yet received full armor, and the head of the brotherhood of Chaplains. </p><p>Others have taken them away from each other, of course. </p><p>He was put on bread and water for the next two weeks, as an atonement, and his enlistment in the ranks of the true warriors was postponed for another half of the star year, but even that was better than the aborted... initiation.</p><p>Later he allowed himself to be convinced: Erebus had meant something else to him. What happened was only the result of a misunderstanding.</p><p>But... Argel Tal knew deep in his hearts that he had not been deceived by himself.)</p><p>And yet — in the same way as it happens in the battle — after this effect comes the second phase of the reaction. </p><p>He gets used to the rhythm of the Custodian movements; moreover, he responds to them as he would respond to the movements of a new opponent in sparring, probing before moving into his own counterattack. </p><p>He flinches at the bite on his shoulder: it's like demanding an answer.</p><p>"Come on," Aquilon breaths into his skin. Argel Tal can hear him licking his lips, breathing heavily, hotly.</p><p>It acts on Argel Tal like a dose of stimulants injected into his veins during combat.</p><p>Argel Tal unclenches his teeth; he feels blood in his mouth. (How did he not notice that he had bitten the edge of his tongue?)</p><p>With an effort, he lowers his stiff neck a little — and hits Aquilon, who is leaning over his head, in the face. </p><p>He acts almost as he had thought to act only a little while before: straining his arms and shoulders, and making the most of Aquilon's precarious position. The Custodian is more massive, and more than capable of handling his bulk — but he still shouldn't have left Argel Tal with both hands free. </p><p>Aquilon tries to grab his wrists again, to seize him; but Argel Tal slips out, twisting his body.</p><p>In the struggle, they miraculously do not break the bench with their combined weight; they only fall from there, rolling on the floor. </p><p>Aquilon slips out of him, but instead of the long-awaited relief, or even triumph, the Argel Tal's body is pierced by such a crushing need, sucht longing, such thirst that he reaches forward by himself with an inarticulate growl and then leaning back, feeling the floor with his shoulder blades. He wraps his legs around the Custodian's waist, crosses his heels. </p><p>His gaze falls between their bodies.  </p><p>His own phallus is smaller than the Custodian's, and he doubts he could have done the same to him even if the roles had been reversed. The very thought of doing such a thing to another man — one like himself (no, another, created completely differently; this should never be forgotten) - even now this thought makes him sick.</p><p>However, here and now, all of this is melted down in - rather - struggle, albeit strange variety; another friendly (fraternal) duel, albeit more tough, close-to-earth; and to think about this in such way is much easier.</p><p>He even feels - vaguely, as from afar - not just the absence of incompleteness: but a kind of pleasure akin to that which arises in body in battle. The difference is that on the battlefield he knows: it's the effect of stimulants, a cocktail mixed by apothecaries intentionally, in all the necessary proportions. </p><p>But this chemical cocktail produced by his improved body is completely unfamiliar to him. And that would be frightening; but Astartes know no fear.</p><p>(Or so he tells himself, because it is customary and it is right).</p><p>Most of all it reminds him of the smell he had smelled in Cyrene's rooms when he came to her in the morning or afternoon after she had been alone with one of those mortal men. </p><p>But Aquilon's skin, pressed against his own, smells very much like it now - though the hue is obviously different. The Custodian continues to push in him; the pace is slower, but still has the same sharp edge.</p><p>On a vague impulse, Argel Tal raises himself on his elbows and kisses Aquilon on the lips: a gesture he has also observed among mortals. Learned from Cyrene.</p><p>(And more than once he wondered: what if he had once touched her lips by his own  - instead of kissing her fingers in greeting?...)</p><p>But there is no drop of reverence or tenderness in that kiss. It is like a blow; like the clash of fist with a palm in battle. And in the same way after it remains blood.</p><p>To Argel Tal's surprise, Aquilon replies in the same direct, harsh, retreat-free manner. The Custodian puts him back on his shoulder blades, slamming his back against the floor — not hard enough to knock his spirit out, but hard anyway. The fingers on his shoulders tighten like a vise.</p><p>“Is this... what you wanted?” repeats the Custodian his frenzied question. </p><p>Argel Tal rises stubbornly again. He bares his teeth - it is not similar to a smile at all. He jerks his chin in a sort of nod. </p><p>("I wanted for you to be truly my brother.")</p><p>His hands are now - again - completely free; taking advantage of that, he runs his palms down Aquilon's back, down his sides. He presses a little harder and feels the marks of old scars, which are inappropriate to ask about. Especially now.</p><p>If he and Aquilon were brothers in the full sense of the word, Argel Tal would know where most of them, if not all, came from.</p><p>Be they brothers...</p><p>But they are something else entirely; even more so now. </p><p>The Custodian exhales through his teeth and kisses Argel Tal by his own initiative, presses his fingers on Argel Tal’s nipple, then touches the connection port for the armor. He circles it, now deliberately, without stopping the rhythmic movements of his hips, forcing Argel Tal to exhale abruptly through his teeth. Argel Tal leans forward again and bites the skin on Aquilon’s shoulder, again tasting the Custodian’s spiced blood, and the taste rolls under his skin, nourishing something that is curled up deep inside him, as if sleeping.</p><p>His sense of time fails him, but at some point - amid fierce kisses, sighs, bites — Aquilon reaches between their bodies. His hand closes around Argel Tal's phallus, as if on the hilt of a sword, his favorite weapon — the confidence, relaxed and stern, is exactly the same, at least. </p><p>The grip, however, is not so rigid — and still: with a pleasant feeling, growing reluctantly, through some resistance, there is an inconvenience within it, almost painful. There is no tenderness in the touch. </p><p>The Custodian moves his palm with sharp, wide movements: squeezing, then releasing.</p><p>And this is — Argel Tal allows himself to mentally say such a word (worthy of ninety-nine redemptive lashes) — really a pleasure. Pleasure as it is, but Argel Tal does not let himself to indulge into it. He's not allowed to. </p><p>He doesn't even let himself close his eyes. </p><p>He looks into Aquilon's face, which for some reason is particularly clear and distinct before his eyes; this face has now none of the frenzied fury with which it all began, it is almost have the same look as — again — in battle. As in a brotherly duel, in moments of true, unsullied by anything else, intimacy. </p><p>And that is how Argel Tal would like to remember him.</p><p>Aquilon runs his thumb over the slit on the head of his phallus; the air escapes from Argel Tal's mouth in almost a moan.</p><p>And through the wet haze he thinks again — against all evidence, against all odds — of Cyrene.</p><p>What of all this did she do with mortal men, and what did they do with her, in the merciful darkness?..</p><p>Argel Tal did not pretend to understand mortals; their lives were far from him, though he considered his Legion — first and foremost — defenders of the faithful, not conquerors who always would turn away and move on — at least, he believed so before the Monarchia. </p><p>Before too many cold-blooded murders committed if not by his own hands, then by his own order and command. </p><p>But he thought that he understood Aquilon, and that Aquilon was able to understand him.</p><p>And instead of the bridge he stepped on the cliff. But did the bridge ever really exist? </p><p>Between each and every one of them. </p><p>He arches in the small of his back, shudders, and spilling the whitish liquid from his phallus onto his stomach. The palms of his hands clench into fists, pressing against the floor until his knuckles ache. </p><p>A moment later, Argel Tal hears Aquilon exhales through his teeth in a language he doesn't know — a curse, it must be — and slump inside him, leaning heavily on top of him.</p><p>***<br/>
...They were sitting again on the same bench, which, by effort of them both, had been placed against the wall as evenly as before. </p><p>The Custodian rested his hands on his knees; he might have seemed to be breathing heavily, but Aquilon — as always — recovered his breath much more quickly.</p><p>Thank the gods, Argel Tal thought, that no one else had decided to use the training room at this time. </p><p>(The latest compliance had been exhausting; his warriors would be training only on schedule for the next twenty-four hours. But, of course, it was impossible to vouch for the other Custodians to do the same.</p><p>Perhaps, less than anyone of them Argel Tal wanted to see now only Xaphen — but the Chaplain enjoyed his rights and rarely visited the training cages, especially at an unscheduled hour). </p><p>With an absent-minded gesture, Argel Tal crumpled the towel, with which he had just wiped himself, into in his fist. He'll have to throw it in the recycling bin immediately.</p><p>Aquilon laid a hand on Argel Tal's chest. It took a great effort of will not to flinch, but the touch was simple, unsophisticated; he felt in it the Custodian’s usual heavy confidence. And nothing more: no pressure, no disdain. </p><p>"Let there be no ambiguity between us," Aquilon said calmly and clearly. He did not remove his hand. "What happened now is pretty common among Custodes. I remember many duels that ended like this before my eyes. We are able to restrain our strength without killing and mutilating each other in a duel of equals. But sometimes the tension is too bitter, too sharp. And a blade that's too sharp can hurt a friend before it hurts an enemy. Therefore, in His endless wisdom, my brothers and I are created by the Emperor to be like that."</p><p><i>"They don't think about themselves as brothers in the same way as we do",</i> Argel Tal thought again, absently. And again, as once: <i>"Lions, not wolves."</i></p><p>"It's... different to us," he managed to say. He did not look Aquilon in the eye. </p><p>Aquilon nodded, as if what Argel Tal had said was self-evident.</p><p>"Yes, I forgot that, I know. It's less common among the Legions' warriors." He rubbed his chin with his fingers. "It would be a distraction from the main path, wouldn't it? As I said before, each branch of humanity has its own purpose and destiny. However, you were a worthy opponent. Though only by the standards of the Astartes." Aquilon's expression didn't seem to change, but the earnestness left his tone, giving way to the teasing that was common in between fights. “My brothers would consider it a pity if someone would not last at least one Terran hour. But I intend to blame your lack of preparation for it ."</p><p>"Well," Argel Tal forced himself to chuckle, " I'm training with you for some reason, aren't I?"</p><p>"I like your attitude," Aquilon said. "But don't expect to gain an advantage here."</p><p>"What did you say about giving up without trying?" Argel Tal allowed himself to make a reminder of their previous (and ending like this) argument.</p><p>"What did you say about humbly accepting your limits?" Aquilon did not remain in debt. Now he was joking again, as if nothing had happened. "And yet I want you to know this: it's good to have the such opportunity. The oaths of my Custodian-brothers do not permit such a thing during these forty years, but my oaths were different." Aquilon did not elaborate; it was to remain another lock on the slightly ajar door between Argel Tal and the one he called his friend. "I appreciate it, brother."</p><p>Aquilon put his other hand on Argel Tal's shoulder, leaned over and kissed him hard on the lips once more. He did that without an any sign of onslaught that had marked his attitude earlier.</p><p>Argel Tal allowed himself to open his mouth. It was what was expected of him. It was a right thing to do. </p><p>"Do you mind sparring again now?" asked Aquilon after that. </p><p>"If I defeat you, you will come to Cyrene at least once."</p><p>"If," Aquilon said, a hint of a snort on his lips. </p><p>Argel Tal stood up and turned his back on Aquilon, straining his shoulders and lower back, shaking off the numbness that had come after... after what they had been doing. </p><p>Argel Tal's eyes darted, obeying habit, to the weapons rack, but then he remembered correctly —  and unmistakably stepped back to where his blades had been. He just did not have time to pick them up. </p><p>"I have your word." He squinted at the Custodian, not allowing himself to wonder what would happen if he in his turn would came to Cyrene with this new knowledge of himself.</p><p>Uninvited, like the revelation of a new faith, but just as undeniable. </p><p>What if he finally asked her what it meant to her? And whether she would be willing to share it with h...</p><p>...No. Then he would have to confess to her, fully and completely, that he had allowed this to happen only for the sake of betraying Aquilon in the future. For the sake of lulling the other's vigilance.</p><p>And no matter how much he would knelt before her, his face buried in the soft fabric of her priestly robes, and felt the gentle touch of her sensitive fingers on his hair — so gentle, not at all like what he had just experienced with the Custodian, — it would not change anything at all. Will not change the truth. </p><p>And she, Cyrene, would shake her head and close her sightless eyes, leaving only the faintest trace of her touch on his arm. </p><p>The Confessor of the Word truly reads in the hearts of men - Aurelian gave her this title sagaciously. </p><p>How it is possible to forgive someone who will never forgive himself?</p><p>The someone who will only have to keep the trophies in the end — and to remember what he did in the past.</p><p>Although he never wanted it.</p><p>Or wanted something entirely different.</p><p>Argel Tal smiled wryly in response to the broad grin of the Custodian — and saluted him with the crossed swords.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There is a translation of my own work "Ты этого хотел?" - https://ficbook.net/readfic/8684249</p><p>If there is any errors in English grammar or whatever, please comment on it.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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